Roaring engines
by daniebanaanie1999
Summary: Alison Hendrix, a model citizen, is desperate for some action. She learns that she loves speed, and shows that by secretly buying a motorcycle and joining contests. After a certain race her motor has to be fixed. Alison brings her motorcycle to garage, famous under the locals. That's where she meets Beth Childs. The mechanic seems to be more intresting than Alison thought...
1. Bikers don't leak oil

Everybody needs a hobby. Something to distract them from all the drama in their life. Something you're good at.

Some people like reading books, to escape reality. Other people like to play soccer, to release some energy by kicking a ball. Painting. Baking. Or maybe even to watch a nice show. Everybody had a hobby, except for Alison Hendrix.

She'd tried things, she really had. Handcrafts for example. She had bought a whole basement full of supplies. The first two weeks were kind of fun. Alison spend her spare time in the basement, trying to create things with all the supplies she had bought. Like a paper-frog, or a picture frame for the cute picture of her kids she taken recently. But it didn't work out. After those two weeks, Alison knew handcrafts were defenitely not her thing. She couldn't work with the hot glue gun and almost glued herself to the table. She tried to make clothes, but at the end of the first week there were several little bloody holes in her thumb because of the pointy needle. And she also tried to just fold something, but it looked like shit. All the things she made never looked pretty enough, weren't neat enough to be pretty. It looked unfinished and sloppy. Handcrafts defenitely were not the hobby for Alison.

Alison also tried to knit. She was good at that though. She was good at knitting and she could like it, if she tried hard enough. She could make gloves, hats, scarfs, even little sweaters for her kids, Oscar and Gemma. But it was the same over and over again. The same movements, the same way of tilting the dreads and the knit sticks over and over again. It bored her. Even though she was pretty good at knitting, she didn't like it either.

Aynsley suggested she join her bookclub. The reading itself wasn't bad, but the people who also joined the bookclub were as boring as a dictionairy. She also suggested Alison go to the soccer-training of the little kids. Even figure skating. Alison had tried them all. And disliked them all, even more because Aynsley was constantly showing off her own skills.

Eventually, out of pure desperation, she bought a few guns and went to the range. A friend, called Ramon, had helped her out. Ramon was very helpful. He selled Alison her little helpers. So she knew she had to go to him if she needed something what wasn't... quite legal. As a true lady she chose the gun with the lady-grip, obviously. A big Glock wasn't her thing. Something more small and elegant suited Alison. Yet, it still had the same power of that big Glock. Alison felt some relief since the first seconds her hands touched the slender lady-grip of her gun. She could feel it at the very first moment she fired her first bullet. The sound of the bullet hitting a brick-wall had made her wince in pain. Alison had been stupid enough to not buy earmuffs first before shooting. Her ears ringed and she kept hearing a annoying peep until very late at night. But she loved it. She loved to feel in control like that. To end a life with one bullet, one stretch of her finger. Of course, Alison would never kill someone, but it just felt amazing. And she realized, she didn't only like to be in control of her own life. She liked the speed of the bullets. In a second her victim could be dead. Alison loved speed.

Alison kept shooting for an hour or two, until she ran out of bullets. As a beginner gun-keeper she didn't know where to go for new ones, so she returned to Ramon. Like she expected, Ramon had enough bullets to take care for the whole neighbourhood if he liked. He shoke her hand like she was a long lost friend, with a big smile on his face. He had friendly, hazel eyes and messy brown hair. Thick brown eyebrows which matched the colour of his hair perfectly and an innocent face. Nobody would even dare to think this guy selled illegal guns and pills. When Ramon toke his hand back, Alison's hand had turned from slightly pink to almost completely black. The smell of oil filled her nose.

"I'm sorry for all the filth, but I'm working on something new lately," he said. Alison had rosed her eyebrows out of curiousity. Ramon grinned and toke her to the back of his garage. There stood a motorcycle. A huge dark motorcycle, half stripped down with pieces of it spread all over the ground. Big oil stains were visible at the once light grey floor. Alison knew Ramon had a garage, but she didn't know he loved to strip down motorcycles.

"It's a beauty, isn't it? I try to fix it, but I don't have anyone to ride it... I'm not planning to, I need to take care of my customers, like you Mrs. Hendrix."

Ramon smiled at Alison and gave her a friendly push. She looked at him, a smile on her face. Guns were okey, but a motorcycle... All that speed...

"I'll ride it," she offered.

His eyes widened is disbelieve and Ramon's thick eyebrows rose of surprise. He tried to say something, but couldn't say much, apart from: "What?"

"I'll ride it. You heard me," Alison repeated. "I never ridden a motorcycle before, but it won't be that hard. It's something I always wanted to do."

Okey, that was a lie. But Alison did feel a big affection for the motor. She was dying to touch the leather grips, black of the sweat of people's hands. She wanted to sit on the soft saddle, a helmet placed over her bangs and feel the power of the mechanic-beast underneath her.

"You? But Mrs. Hendrix, that's a very dangerous vehicle!" he said, still wide eyed. Ramon looked at his half finished motorcycle and back to Alison. But nothing Ramon would say could stop Alison from ride on a monstrous motorcycle like this one. She told him to call her as soon as he was done with it.

In a few days she got a call and hurried to Ramon's garage. The motor was all fixed up. A black beauty, huge and dangerous and ready for Alison to make its engine roar on the road.

"You don't think I can handle it?"

Alison dared Ramon to answer back. The boy kept himself silent and stared to the ground, taking a deep breath.

"Alright then. Just don't break it," he said, pulling up the corners of his mouth into a small smile. She couldn't help but to return the smile.

Ramon took the motor and took it outside. It was a windy day with barely any sun that got through the thick layer of clouds. It was cold and she needed to wear a jacket to keep warm, with some thin gloves to keep her hands from freezing. The little road was empty. There was one man in his garden, trying to pot some plants before the winter began, who looked up when they entered the small road. She wondered if she wouldn't crash onto the brick walls immediately. Ramon gave Alison a helmet as he sat down on the saddle. She held the helmet under her arms, kind of enjoying the soft wind blowing through her bangs.

"Okey, so this is how you start it," Ramon began, showing how to put on the engine. The machine roared enthusiastically, ready to cycle for the first time in ages. Ramon showed her how to ride forward, how to stop and how to turn. It didn't looked very hard, but she hadn't touched the motorcycle yet. There could be a chance she would fall in the first few seconds she sat down. She was a good driver, better than most of her neighbours or Donnie. If she could make a huge van move and park parrallel into the tiniest spots, she couldn't be bad with a motorcycle too, right? Alison smiled at the thought.

Thinking she would be a good motorcyclist was a huge mistake. When Ramon stepped off the motor and Alison sat down, she almost fell down with the machine. The motor was too heavy. She wasn't prepared for so much weight when Ramon stepped back. She toke the dark grab bars. They used to be dark brown, but they turned black due to the sweat of tons of bikers through the years. The saddle felt unfamiliar under her body, what made her a little uncomfertable. After gaining her balance again, she tried to throttle. She throttled too much, obviously and raced down the street, way to fast. She almost hit a street light and turned in panick. A group of people who just walked into the small road started to swear loudly when Alison almost ran into them. She wasn't able to scream a sorry, because she was too busy not to crash into other people. Alison could hear Ramon laughing in the distance.

Eventually she was able to stop the motor, turn and drive back to Ramon. The douchebag could barely stand up straight because he was laughing so hard. Pissed off, but also kind of releaved she didn't broke her leg, she gave Ramon his motorcycle back. She got off quickly.

"This is not like you, right, Mrs. Hendrix?" Ramon joked, trying to cover up his chuckling. Alison slapped his arm softly and rolled her eyes in disapproval. It was actually quite fun to ride a motorcycle, minus the near-death experience. There defenitely was speed. She just needed to learn how to control it and make the bike do what she wanted it to do.

"Actually, I'd like to come over another time and try it again," Alison said. Ramon chuckled, clearly thinking she was joking. When she kept silent, he silented as well and wided his eyes in shock. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to have forgotten he could speak. He just stared at her blankly, with rizing terror in his eyes. She smiled, a little proud of herself, being sure she would be an excellent biker soon.

They made an appointment. Next week Alison would return to Ramon's garage and try to ride the motorcycle again. Ramon wasn't an excellent teacher himself, but she learned quick enough.

At every meeting she got better. The second time was still a big embarrassment. She almost ended up in a huge mud pool and almost crashed several times. But after the third time she was totally in control of the handlebars. Alison had to be careful she wouldn't crash into something or someone once, which was defenitely an improvement on the last two times. She drove faster at every meeting, she dared to drive faster. It felt like she flew, it felt great. She could barely feel the saddle of the bike beneath her or her fingers clenching at the bars. Her helmet didn't smell like dirty, manly bikers anymore, but of her own sweat and sweet parfume. She got better and better and in a very short time she was motorcycling like a professional.

Alison motorcycled through the suburbs, a little scared anyone would recognize her tiny figure. Luckily no one did. Her old, grumpy neighbour actually called her a vandal which actually made her day. Nobody knew it was her, so she could drive without the fear of being recognized through the suburbs or the city. It made her feel free. This was her thing and nobody, except for Ramon, knew it was hers.

She drove through the countryside and enjoyed the beautiful green landscape. There were barely any cars on the countryrode, so Alison sped up until at least 200 mph. She loved it. She loved the speed. She loved this motorcycle.

Once she came back at Ramon's garage, they made a deal. Alison bought the motorcycle but it would stay here. Donnie or the kids couldn't find out. He would think it was dangerous and irresponsible. The kids would play with it, maybe even break it if she lost them out of her sight for a few seconds. Luckily Ramon thought the same and allowed her to place it in his garage.

After a week or two, at another meeting with Ramon, her friend announced there was this local competition for beginning racers. Ramon slapped her on her back and laughed loud. He gave her something to drink, but she wasn't thristy. Yet, she took it and took a small sip of it.

"You know, you should totally join, Mrs. Hendrix," he said, while taking a sip of his can of soda. He placed it back on the table and grinned at her. Alison's eyes wided and her timid smile grew to a huge grin.

"You know what, Ramon?" she said. "I'm going to do it."


	2. Diamond's are a girl's best friend?

It was only two weeks until the race started. Alison didn't have much time to practise because she hadn't got much spare time. In the little hours she did have leisure, she would train her ass off. At every training session she would try to drive a little faster, until she reached the limit. She would try to race at maximum speed through bends, without to fall. Alison got a better motorcyclist every time she sat down on the black saddle of her motor.

At the day of the race, she made sure Felix came to babysit Gemma and Oscar while Donnie was off to work. The race wouldn't take long, just an hour, or maybe two. She just hoped Felix wouldn't turn her kids into dragsters again... At least Gemma and Oscar seem to like him, and that's all that really matters to Alison right now. She felt bad for leaving, so she at least could leave them with somebody they liked even though their mother wasn't quite fond of the way he baby sit them.

She parked her red mini-van in front of Ramon's garage and got out. Alison made sure the van was locked as the walked inside. She found her friend in his workplace, playing a game on his phone and drinking some coke while he waited for Alison to come. When she entered the garage, he looked up. A big grin could be seen on his face. His brown hair was shaggy and she doubted if he combed it this morning.

_"Miss Hendrix! Ready for the race?"_ he asked as he shut off his phone and put it in the pocket of his pants. He offered her a sip of his coke but she refused by lifting her hand. Ramon shrugged and took a sip himself.

_"You'll come with me, right?"_ Alison asked, suddenly a little anxious. She counted on him. He was like her mentor, even though she knew more about riding a motorcycle at the moment. Ramon was her friend and she wanted him to be there, even if she'd loose. She probably would loose. This was her first race, her first try. It was barely a month ago since she first touched her motor. Her opponents probably had a lot of experience and she totally lacked experience. It would take a lot to win.

Ramon placed his glass on the messy desk and turned to her. His table was full of master prints of her type of motorcycle, a YZF-R1 or something like that. Pieces of other motorbikes were spread out on the ground. Yet, Ramon didn't had to look down to the ground when he walked over her. He took her hands in his. His rough hands felt strangely familiar and it calmed her down a little bit. She needed him there on the tribune, waiting for her to finish. Ramon smiled reassuring to her, like he knew what she thought. Maybe he just guessed her thoughts by her nervous attitude. He had some stubbles around his lips and on his cheeks she hadn't noticed before, showing he hadn't been shaving for at least two days.

_"Of course I'll be there. I don't want to miss your first race, do I?"_ he said. Ramon pinched in her hands and she pinched him back. This time she was also able to smile at him. If Ramon was going to be there, it would be fine.

_"Now, the race starts in two hours. Better go to the start and make sure you can participate, okey?"_ he said as he let go of her hands. Ramon drank the last few sips of his coke all at once, took his jacket and put it on. It was a simple, brown leather jacket that suited his posture well. It made his shoulders look broader and his figure taller.

_"Yes,"_ Alison agreed. She took the keys of her motorcycle out of her pocket and threw them to her friend. Ramon started the motorcycle, since Alison still had some diffeculties handling the heavy, metal beast. Ramon still helped her to step on the motor without falling, just like he was about to do now. She really needed to work on that. But that probably meant she needed to get some extra muscles.

He took the motorbike outside and made sure it wouldn't fall on the ground when Alison got on. Ramon hurried back inside to take two helmets. A black one for himself and a pink one for Alison. It looked kind of weird, a mat-black motorcycle with a pink helmet, but Alison was determinded to show something of herself at the race. She liked pink and she knew she the other participants would laugh at her, but she didn't care. They wouldn't laugh anymore if she kicked their filthy asses.

Ramon got on the motorcycle as well and wrapped his arms around Alison's waist. They both put on their helmets. She made the engine roar enthousiastically. A grin, hidden behind the dark glass of the helmet, appeared on Alison's face when she heard the familiar sound. She could feel the adrenaline being pumped through her veins.

_"Ready?"_ she asked. Her voice was a little muffled because of her helmet, but Ramon still gave her a thumb up. Her grin grew even bigger as she throttled. The motorcycle raced forward and speeded up fast. Ramon had to tighten his grip around her waist if he didn't want to fall off the motor and drag Ali with him. Wind rushed past her ears and made her deaf, unable to hear anything else but the rustle of the wind. Alison didn't mind. She felt like she was one with her motorcycle now. Like it were her tyres that drove over the slightly wet road, still speeding up.

It only took Alison a minute or two to get out the ghetto in which Ramon lived. Once they got out, the small apartments, placed closely together, made place for the big houses of the suburbs. It took a little longer to get out of the suburbs. The streets were longer and the houses took more place with their huge gardens and big surface. Alison recognized some of the people. Charity who was about to take her children to figureskating. A grumpy looking man who was taking his dog for a walk. The woman who just came to live in Black Oak Drive, taking her mail out of her mailbox. Alison saw many different people with a lot of different lifes. It intrested her. They all lived in the same street, the same block, all in Scarborough, but still the daily life of her neighbour could be so much different than hers while she didn't even know. Alison didn't want to know all the details, since she knew how it felt when somebody wanted to know everything about you. Aynsley had been a pain in her ass. It just intrested her how other people lived their lifes.

As they rode through the suburbs the sun burned onto her bare lower-arms. It was still too cold to not wear any sleeves, especially if you drive with more than 80 mph at some straight stretches of the road. Yet it was too warm to wear much clothing. It was actually the perfect spring-temperature. Not too cold but neither too warm, even on a motorcycle.

When they left the suburbs, the big houses were replaced by huge, green fields. Some were just fielded with grass and a tree now and then. Sometimes farmers let sheep or cows graze at the fields, since there were sappy grasses enough for a whole flock. The long roads were abandoned for what it seemed like miles. Alison speeded up a little bit. Wind blew through her clothes and made her shiver, but it was a good shiver. The kind of shiver that made you grin with excitement. She loved this feeling.

After half an hour they arrived at the race. The start and the finish were located at the same huge, empty parkingspot. Iron fences were placed to keep the viewers from invating the finish line because the other participants were getting ready for the race there. Some of them were still busy fixing some little details, like a loose handgrip or they made sure their motorcycle had enough gas to run on. Others were showing off. They wore leather vests without sleeves. Huge biceps were shown and the men that owned those huge arms didn't mind to show them to middle-aged women who stood behind the fences. Beautiful women stood besides them, clinging onto the arms of the huge men. They laughed hysterically and wore, to Alison's opinion, too much make-up and too less clothes.

Alison gulped. There were quite some visitors. About 8 other participants and their crews, which already made 30 people. There were about 50 other viewers, the ones who just liked to see amateurs racing, the sports fans. Luckily, the other participants were really beginners. At least 5 of them were just teenage boys who liked to play with their motorcycles when they got some free time. Two others were the show-offs. Alison immediately knew she wouldn't like those guys. It would be priceless to see their pissed off faces if she won the race. The last one was an old man. He still wore a blouse and beige trousers. It didn't seem at all like he was going to ride the old Harvey he was standing next too, but Alison's couldn't find his grandson or something. It was more likely the senior would help one of his relatives, but it looked like was on his own.

She saw a lot of people coming from a few little food stalls. A lot of people bought there something to drink or something to eat while they waited for the race to start. Other people went up to the information desk. That was probably where the participants signed themselves up and that also probably was where the jury would announce the winner of the race when everyone was finished. All those people intertwined with eachother seemed a little chaotic. Alison was not sure where to park her motorcycle, distracted by all the people.

Ramon jumped off the motorcycle before she had even fully stopped.

_"I'll make sure they know you're also a participant. I think the race is about to start, so go and make yourself ready, Mrs. Hendrix!"_ he shouted at her, while he ran to the information desk. Alison sighed. Get yourself together, Hendrix, she thought. You have to attempt this race with a clear mind, otherwise you're never going to win. Do as Ramon told you and blend in with your contestants.

Alison took a deep breath and got off her motorcycle. She had trouble to hold the motor, but she couldn't let it drop on the ground while the other participants were there. They would all laugh at her. Instead, she walked slowly to the start. Alison took off her helmet and placed it on her saddle. Directly a lot of eyes were fixed on her. It made her uncomfertable, but she couldn't run back to Ramon now. She just had to prepare herself for the race, even though people were looking at her. Alison even thought to hear people whispering and talking about her gender.

A little axious she looked at the information desk. Ramon still was there and it didn't seem like he was going to return to her anytime soon. And like this situation couldn't get any worse, one of the show-offs walked over to them. The two girls on her side looked curiously at her, but the man looked rather mad.

_"I'm Paul Dierden,"_ the guy says. He looked at her like she was nothing more than dirt. Alison couldn't help but to feel very defensive. _"Where's the motorcyclist?"_

_"You're looking at her,"_ Alison said aggressive. Her eyes locked with Paul's, determined to keep staring at him until he looked away. He smirked and shook his head, grinning to himself.

_"Sure,"_ Paul said, as he turned around and walked back to his own motorcycle. Alison touched her face with her hands and sighed deeply.

A few minutes after Paul Dierden walked away, Ramon came running to her. He was a little out of breath when he spoke, and a few small drops of sweat were visible on his nose.

_"Mrs. Hendrix, the race is about to start,"_ her friend said hastily. _"Just a minute or two. Make yourself ready. It'll be okey, I'll be right there at the start." _

A big man, probably one of the secrurity, already walked over to Ramon and grabbed his arms roughly. The guy told Ramon to come with him and join the other viewers. Ramon smiled reassuring to her, before he walked with the guard. Alison watched him dissapear in the huge croud before she put on her pink helmet again. She swung her leg over the saddle and sat down. Her hands closed around the leather grips. The other participants got on their motorcycles too. The girls of Paul Dierden and the other show-off had left. Now only their huge biceps made impact on her. All the people at the sideline lost importance. She only was fixed on was the huge timer, hung up above the finishline, that slowly counted down.


	3. Getting lost on purpose again

As soon as the timer reached zero, Alison throttled off, with peeping tires. The other motorists left their starting places at the same time as Alison and raced off with her. The engine roared happily when the motor reached its speed limit in the first few seconds. They all passed the finish line, and the real race began.

She had practised on the start of the race, the suddenly upcoming speed and the other racers who tried to cut off her lane, but it was harder than she thought. This might be a race for beginners, but these participants were vicious. More vicious than Alison thought they would be. They're men, she reminded herself, and this is their territory. She was an invader and had to think like men would do, otherwise she would never win this race.

The first bend appareaded and the motorist rode close next to eachother. It would be easy to pass them if they clutched together like this, but then she had to be faster and actually, she doubted she would be. This isn't a fancy motor, this is a second-hand, barely fixed motor which still missed some parts. Alison had to be smart, otherwise it would never work. She slowed down a bit so she could ride behind the group, waiting for a chance to pass them.

When they got into the bend, the motorcyclists clutched together even more. Everybody tried to pass eachother by riding as close to the left side, the smallest side, of the bend as possible. Others tried to out-race them, but were held up by the slower participants. It was just one black spot on the already dark grey road which was faced by her as one single problem, not as 9 other racers.

Alison wasn't a part of the clutched motorcycles and stayed behind the group of angry men, who tried to gave eachother a punch in the face when another person came to close to their motorbikes. A little gape appeared between the group and the side of the track. The group was forced to ride a little to the left, which greated an empty spot between the side of the track and the group, big enough for her to fit through. Alison saw a chance to pass the group and took it the second she saw it. She speeded up until she reached her speedlimit again and tried to pass the group of guys. She wasn't fast enough. Alison got cut off by another motorcycle. She wasn't quite sure if the motorist cut her off on purpose or forgot she was even there and tried to fit through the gap himself too. It didn't matter because they got out of the bend while she rode half past the group. She got trapped between the other participants and couldn't escape, until they came near the straight part of the track again. The guys in the front speeded up and left it, which gave the other guys the opportunity to speed up as well and leave. Alison was left behind, back at the end. She could hear Ramon growl of irritation in her head, and so did she.

Alison made sure she kept close to the cyclist in front of her. She guessed that at the next bend, they would clutch again, and they indeed did. The group was formed again, with the fastest motorist in the front and the slower, desperate ones in the back. Alison joined the guys in the group, because she knew that if she would drive behind them, she would be too slow to pass them once the gap was created again. She mixed in between the guys, hoping she would be able to pass the group at once this time. She waited a second or two, but then she saw the hole between the side of the track and the group appearing again. She manouvred between the other guys and their motorbikes and took advange of the opportunity. Alison tried again to pass the group, but again, it didn't work. The bend ended too soon, she couldn't pass the group. She was only half past.

The motorists broke the clutch up again. This time Alison didn't stayed last on purpose. She tried to pass as much motorcyclists as she could in the straight part of the track, but that wasn't easy. Their motors had a higher speedlimit, they could drive faster than she could. And they were defenitely handier than she was. The bend was her only chance to pass them, but until now, she wasn't able to. She had to be even smarter.

The finishline became visible again, small near the horizon with the huge croud at both of the sides. She heard the incredible loud cheering, even through her helmet. It gave her new power. New determination to win.

They passed the finish line. The first round was done. She still had to complete 4 more. Enough time to pass the effers and win the race, she thought, although she got a little nervous.

Alison tried to pass the group when they neared the bend again a few times, but the motorists started to notice what she was trying to do. One of the cut off her lane when she tried to squeeze through the gap. Another tried to knock her off her motor when she tried again in the other bend. The guys started to work together and ended up being one big group of vicious, mean assholes whose main goal is to keep Alison from winning. And they seemed to win, because after the second round, she couldn't pass any other motorists, not even on the straight parts though she was fast enough.

The last round began and Alison lost hope with every foot her motor took her closer to the finish line. It was impossible to pass the other participants and she had to give in with the fact she probably wouldn't win this race. The guys were too fast and too smart for her. She sighed, yet, she forced herself to concentrate. Even if she wouldn't win, she still tried to, and that's all that matters. She had tried and she should be proud of that. The last bend approached and Alison was almost glad she could step off her motorbike. Her butt started to hurt a bit and she was thristy and tired from the long, intense ride. Maybe she could take Ramon out for diner to thank him. Het thoughts wandered off. She thought about the stuff she still had to do before Donnie came home from work. Taking Oscar to his soccer practise, cooking diner, showering to get rid of the smell of oil. And...

Holy fishticks! Alison was pulled back into reality when she almost crashed into the side of the track. She jerked the wheel and managed to avoid being knocked off her motorcycle. She shook her head, as if she could shake her worries out of her head. She needed to concentrate. She had to try one last time to pass the group.

She rode behind the already clutching motorists and noticed the gap in between the side of the track and the group appearing, like it always had done these past few rounds. The guys even made it bigger on purpose, so they could try to knock her off her bike again, Alison suspected. She wasn't so stupid to try it again. And she would neither go through the center of the group of guys. Maybe she could try to pass them at the other side? Alison blinked with her eyes. The group tried to stay as close to the left side of the track as possible, because that was the fastests way to leave the bend. But a lot of them couldn't ride at full speed, they were held up. If Alison could pass them through the huge open spot on the right, she could pass them, if she was fast enough.

This was her last shot and she didn't care anymore to not try, so why shouldn't she? Alison speeded up to her speed limit. The engine started to moan in disagreement. The second-hand engine wouldn't last much longer than the finishline. There wasn't much time left. Alison got even more ambitious, more determined to win. If this race meant the end of her motor, then at least she had to try to win it.

Alison rode to the left of the group, making it look like she wanted to sqeeze through that gap again. But at the last moment she changed course and quickly turned right, to pass the group without any diffeculties. The guys expected her to try to pass at the left side and didn't notice she just rushed past them at the right, still waiting for her to turn left so they could cut off her lane. But once they noticed, she heard the stunned voices, screams and swears behind her. A smug grin appeared on her face as she speeded up some more. They left the bend and the group, with Alison some feet in front of them, entered the straight part. She could hear the engines of the other motorcycles angrily roaring, as if they could feel the humiliation and anger of their riders. She just had to stay in front of them for a few moments.

She already could see the finish. Alison could hear the people cheering for her. The arms thrown up in the air and waving, inviting her to cross the finish and be the first female winner of a drag-race like this. But she hadn't won yet.

The motorcyclists entered soon. They were faster than she was, but she had an advance of a few feet. She thought she was going to win, until her engine started to smoke. The machine started to growl in disagreement, trying to tell her it couldn't go any further. It was the thick, black kind of smoke that blurred her vision and blocked her nose and mouth when she inhaled it that troubled her. She couldn't see anything anymore and that made it diffecult to not crash into something or someone else.

One of the guys started to enter her vision through the corner of her eyes, with his body flat against his motorcycle and his bare hands turned white from pinching the grab bars. His head, covered with his black helmet, turned to her and she could almost see him smile behind the dark glass when he was about to pass her. It felt like the guy said: "Good, you passed us. But now I'm going to pass you and your crappy motorcycle." while laughing hard. It pissed Alison off and made her even more determined to win this race. She had to wipe those smug faces off their face.

But her motor couldn't win the race. Her engine turned off and when she tried to throttle, the engine spat out more black smoke and slowed down. It slowed down and the guy besides her passed her without any diffeculty.

The finishline approached and the guy finished first, with Alison a few foot behind him. Directly behind Alison the group of pushing, cheating men finished. They weren't able to pass her anymore before they finished and once they stopped, they took off their helmets and gave her foul looks. Some whispered together, not able to understand they were beaten by a girl. She took off her helmet as well and smiled at them, which made the whispering guys even more annoyed. One of them spat on the ground as he turned his back to her and yelled to his assistant to take his motorcycle back to his garage and to polish it until the black metal shone.

With her helmet under her arm, she turned around, only to see Ramon jumping over the metal fences which tried to keep the viewers away from the finish line and ran towards her. He gave her a big hug and she noticed the happy, smug grin on his face.

"Well done, Hendrix!" he said. "You're not first, but you'll get a medal and a price anyway. As your 'manager'," he made the quotation mark-sign with his hands,"- they gave me the cheque and the medal once they saw you finished second."

He took a silver medal out of the pocket of his jacket and signed her to come closer. Alison bowed foreward and Ramon placed the medal around her neck. He smiled and showed her the cheque

"You didn't think I could do it?" Alison teased, as a timid smile appeared on her face. She took the cheque and blinked surprised. It was worth hundred dollars! Enough to go out with Ramon and thank him and do something nice for the kids! A grin appeared on her face. Ramon laughed a bit uncomfertable at the question, placed his hand in his neck and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, to be honest, I didn't think you would end second."

Alison gave him a friendly slap on his shoulder and rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed she didn't mean it.

"You should have a little more faith in me, Ramon. Because I think a lot more races are coming ahead. But first, I'm going to take you out for diner."

Ramon coughed a bit and looked down to his feet, softly biting his lower lip. Alison narrowed her eyes. He only avoided her gaze when something was wrong and he didn't dare to tell her. And this was certainly one of those moments, obviously.

"Ramon, what is it?"

"I think you could better use that money for a new engine, Miss Hendrix," he said, still avoiding her gaze. "I'd love to go out for diner once, but your Black Beauty needs an overhaul..."

Alison blinked and tilted her head a little bit to the left. Okey, she knew her motorcycle was broken, but she thought Ramon could fix it.

"Can't you fix it?" she asked worried.

"I'm a fine mechanic, but I'm not a professional. I can pimp motors perfectly well, but your engine almost _blew up_," Ramon said. "I can't fix that. You have to go to a professional mechanic. But don't worry. I know a cheap one. I've never been there myself, but I heard they're amazing. What if I'll give you their name?"

Alison sighed and nodded. She rather had Ramon to fix her motorcycle. It was way easier to let her friend repare the motorbike, he simply didn't ask any questions. But maybe, if it really needed a overhaul, then it was for the best she would let a professional mechanic fix it.

Ramon took a piece of paper and a pencil out of his pocket. He seemed to keep everything there, she realised. He wrote something down on the paper and gave it to her. She read it and narrowed her eyes, because she never heard of the name.

_Childs & Manning_


	4. Two wheels move the soul

Alison still had an hour or two left before her babysitter would turn against her and Donnie came home, so she decided it would be best if she took her damaged motorcycle immediately to Childs & Manning. Ramon offerend to help to get the heavy motorbike to the garage, but she sent him home, telling him that it wasn't necessary to come along. Ramon shrugged, said goodbye and walked away, leaving Alison alone with the mechanical beast. She'd only drop off the cycle, go to Felix's to take a quick shower and wash that smelly oil-smell off of her body and return back home. It was a piece of cake, she thought. Until she realised that she could impossibly get the motorcycle at Childs & Manning.

She came to the competition on her motorcycle, but now the engine has exploded, she could never get back home with the motorcycle. She had to go back and hope that one of the mechanics would be a sweetheart and willing to pick her motorcycle up. Alison had to leave her motorcycle behind and she defenitely wasn't comfertable with the idea of leaving it here. She hadn't bought a lock yet to ensure its safety. Everybody could take it, though she doubted if anybody wanted a second-hand motorcycle with a not-working engine.

Alison rubbed the back of her neck and let out a deep sigh as she walked through the croud to find someone who could give her a ride home. Ramon was probably already off again. She kind of wished she hadn't sent Ramon away. He could've helped her, with his network of contacts. He probably knows some guys who could pick us up and bring us home.

She intensively searched for her friend in the croud. Most people were preparing to leave, so it was a big mess of talking people, bodies pressed against eachother to get to their car as fast as possible and haisty footsteps. Alison unknowingly took a few steps towards the croud, eagerly trying to spot Ramon, until she bumped into someone. Shocked and a little affronted she looked at the young woman who just walked into her, blinking surprisingly as she rubbed her painly shoulder.

The girl looked at her with the same hazelish eyes with huge dark circle under them, surrounded by bouncy, blonde curls. Her face had a greyish kind of colour, like she hadn't been out in the sun for a while. Alison straightened her back and placed her hands in front of her, cocking her head a little bit to the left as she took in the woman in front of her. A huge coat with the colour of vomit hung around her tiny shoulders. She could've fitted into it at least twice. The girl wore a bordeaux red shirt with a unicorn and black-and-white striped jeans. Every little inch was odd about her and still, Alison was quite fascinated about her.

"Excuse me," she said, in a heavy foreign accent. "Did I hurt you?"

Alison blinked surpisingly but shook her head. Her ponytail swung to the left and to the right when she moved.

"No, no," she quickly said and turned her eyes to the sky. Her hands automatically went up to her face, her indexfinger stroking her own cheek, when she was nervous, and she was defenitely nervous now. Alison was waiting for the blonde to walk away, but she kept near her and watched her. It made her highly uncomfertable and she avoided her gaze as much as possible.

"You were second?" the girl asked eventually, after a few seconds of gawking. This catched Alison's attention. She moved her hand slowly from her face and frowned her eyebrows slightly.

"Yes..." she said slowly, not sure if she could expect a few tips from a random viewer who thinks she can do better or being laughed at because of her crappy motor. She narrowed her eyes a bit.

But instead of harsh words, the woman began to smile. It wasn't the prettiest smile she had seen, it was almost like she barely ever smiled and it took her a hard time to even try, but it reassured her.

"Where is motorcycle?" she asked, tilting her head to the left like a puppy.

"It's broken... The engine wasn't strong enough, I have to get it to the garage."

"Can you get home?" she immediately asked, blinking innocent. "If not, I can bring you."

Alison gulped. This girl was as innocent as a child, if she was in a good mood. The unmatching clothes, the nervous playing with her fingers and the looking to the ground all showed that she was kind of nervous to talk to Alison, though there was nothing to be afraid of. Many people were very nice to point out she was too tiny to even harm someone and most people weren't even impressed by her. But the nervosity of the girl didn't feel like she was afraid to get hurt, more like she was afraid Alison wouldn't like her.

"I don't even know your name," Alison protested, her voice sqeakingly.

The girl shrugged.

"Helena. What's your name?"

Alison blinked. She expected a whole other kind of reply, but she played along, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Alison," she said. Helena smiled insecure and nodded.

"You still want to go home? I have motorcycle, I can bring you."

Alison doubted if she should trust this Helena and go with her. She didn't even know her. Helena could take her to an alley and hurt her and cut her. But something about her comforted Alison. It was like she was able of so much, but would never dare to hurt Alison.

"Okey then," she said. Helena started to grin and bounced up and down.

"I'm gonna get the motor," she said, as she ran off. The blonde curls blended with the croud as Helena pushed all the people in front of her to get as soon as possible to her own motorcycle. It took her a few minutes to get back at Alison. She noticed sadly that Helena's motor was even prettier than hers, but she didn't complain. After a visit at the garage hers would probably shine as well, so she had nothing to complain about.

Helena stepped on her motorcycle and signed her to hop on as well. Alison quickly glanced left and right, making sure no one saw her hopping on a motorcycle of a strange, weird foreign girl. But after a second or two she realised nobody who actually knew her would be here, at a dragrace for motorcyclists, so she could go with Helena without gossips spreading through her neighbourhood.

Helena waited as she put on her helmet. Once Alison sat behind her on her motorbike, she blonde gave her a helmet as well.

"I like going fast," she said as she made the powerful engine roar, louder than Alison's motor ever had done, and raced off the parklot. The few people who clutched together, loudly talking about the just finished race, recoiled when Helena drove past them, the tires just a few inches away from their toes. She heard the angry screams and swears of the men, who clearly not approved of Helena's driving habits.

They left the terrain of the dragrace and headed back to the city, Helena somehow knowing exactly where Alison needed to go.

It took them half an hour to reach the garage. Helena stopped the motorcycle in front of the shop, allowing Alison to step off the vehicle. The blonde took her helmet off her head and held it under her armpits, unpunctual leaning on one of her grab bars, watching her straighten her back and fix her jacket by wiping off the dust of the pink fabric. She cleared her throat and put a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Helena, for the ride," she said. "Really, if there's anything I can do-"

"Do you have food?"

"E-excuse me?" Alison asked surprised, not expecting such a short and fast answer. To be honest, she didn't even expected a reply at all.

"Let's have lunch," Helena said, showing that child-like smile of hers again. Alison blinked and stared at her for a few seconds. She cleared her throat uncomfertable again, but nodded. She owed her that, defenitely. And she seemed like a nice person, so why shouldn't she?

"Alright, then," she said. "Do you have a phone?"

Helena shook her head.

"But pen and paper."

The motorist took a pen and a piece of paper out of one of the few huge pockets of her enormous coat and handed them over to Alison. She took them, nodded as an thanks and quickly wrote down her personal number. She didn't want Helena to call her on the general phone. Donnie could pick up, and that was the last thing she wanted, because her nosy husband was very good at asking questions.

"Here you are," she said, as she gave the pen and the little piece of paper with her phone number back to Helena. The blonde's eyes scanned the paper quickly before she put the piece of paper into the same pocket it came from.

"I'll give you a call tonight," she said, her words twisted by her obvious European accent, probably Urkanian. "Good afternoon, sestra."

Helena put on her helmet and throttled off.

"I'm not your-" Alison yelled, but her voice got drowned by the sound of the loud engine. Helena already was too far down the street to hear her finish her sentence. A sigh escaped her mouth as she watched Helena dissapear around the corner. When the blonde Ukranian girl was gone she remembered why she dropped her off here.

Alison turned around, facing the garage. From the outside, it looked quite ordinairy, with bright white letters spelling the name: Childs & Mannings and a glass display showing different types of motorcycles and bikes.

Alison took a deep breath and exhauled slowly, to calm her mind and control her body before she entered the shop. There was a small path that lead her through a huge group of bicycles and motorbikes to a counter. A woman very peculiar woman sat behind it, playing a game on her phone and a bourbon in her hand with her feet up on the desk. She clearly didn't notice Alison, or she simply didn't care (which would be very rude), because she didn't look up from her game. The woman simply took another sip and kept swiping over her touchscreen.

Alison carefully walked through the cleared path, to make sure she wouldn't knock some bikes over at her way to the woman. She safely made it out of the mass of bikes and walked towards the counter. Alison straightened her back and cleared her throat. The woman lifted her gaze to meet Alison's, the exact lazy and unintrested expression in those hazel eyes surrounded by heavy black eyeliner as Alison expected to see. Obvilously someone who didn't enjoy working or helping clients. Her lion-mane-like hair stack out in every direction possible and her make-up was smudged a little. She wore a mechanics suit with dark oil-stains on them around the waist and legs.

"Can I help you?" she asked. It was immediatly clear this woman was english, or at least she has lived there for a while. Alison rose her eyebrows when she heard the english pronouncation of the words.

"Yeah, I'm english," the woman said grumpily. Her voice was harsh and sounded angry, even neutral. "But can I help you?"

After living years and years in Canada she must've gotten used to people looking up from her voice, though Alison wished she hadn't risen her eyebrows, because she felt the woman was a lot less likely to help her out.

"Yes, I've got a problem with my motorcycle," Alison said. "So, if you could be nice and help me out-"

The woman sighed and nodded as she stood up and walked through a door, that lead to the back of the garage. Alison could hear her scream for her collegue

"BETH!"

There is a silence.

"Beth fucking Childs there's a lady at the counter for you! Get your dirty ass over here and help her!" she screamed when she didn't got an answer right away. The woman's voice even sounded harder when she yelled.

"Can't you do her?" another voice answered. Alison blinked surprised. This one sounded nicer, sweeter. Like it wasn't made for yelling, but for silent whispers. Alison shifted uncomfertably her weight from her left leg to her right.

"She needs to fix her motor, yeah? That's your bloody job! I'm here for the bicycles!"

"Okey then," the other woman sighs. The one with the black eyeliner and lion-mane-like hair came back and sat down on her chair again.

"My collegue will help you, yeah?" she said. "Wanna drink something? Cup of tea?"

Alison shook her head and raised her hand politely.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

The woman shrugged and took her mobile from her backpocket again. She resumed her game and ignored Alison like she did when she came in. The tiny woman crossed her arms angrily and stack her nose up in the air, not pleased with the way she talked to her.

It took a few minutes of waiting before the collegue stepped through the door. She was wiping her hands on a dirty cloth. It once could've been blue, Alison thought, but because all the oil spots it was impossible to see the original colour. She doubted her hands would get any cleaner by wiping them with that cloth.

The second woman was nothing like the first. Yes, they wore the same mechanics suit and both of their eyes had the same kind of hazelish colour, but besides that there was almost nothing the same. While the first woman's hair was poofy, the second woman's was straight, falling just over her shoulders. Her smile was warm and inviting and her make-up was simple, perfect for her gorgeous face. Her cheeks were slightly pink, which was almost cute... Alison quickly shook her head, as if she could loose those weird thoughts with it.

The woman smiled at her, which mesmerized Alison for a few seconds, before she stack out her hand. Alison took it and shook it.

"Hey, I'm Beth," the woman introduced her. "Beth Childs. And this is Sarah, my sister."


End file.
